


We've got a crisis on our hands

by roadsoftrial



Series: Promnis week 2018 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Silly shenanigans, brotherhood era, kind of pointless, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13475175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadsoftrial/pseuds/roadsoftrial
Summary: What reason could Ignis possibly have for wearing gloves all the time?Prompto is on the case!





	We've got a crisis on our hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 4 of Promnis week! Prompt: Gloves
> 
> This is probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever written.

Prompto had been curious about the gloves for some time now. He'd asked Noctis, who hadn't even noticed, didn't seem to care, either. He'd asked Gladio, who had noticed, but didn't know. 'Maybe he's a germaphobe or something,' he had said with a shrug. Which, well, maybe, but that didn't sound right. He hadn't asked Ignis, obviously, because, well, that'd just be rude.

So he started observing. Making mental notes of when he did and didn't wear them.

He took them off when he cooked, when he cleaned, whenever his hands were busy, really. But always put them back on the minute he'd sit still. Which was odd, but explainable, probably.

And so he started observing his hands when the gloves were off. Maybe he had a skin condition. Maybe he was self-conscious about his hands (but why would he be? Let's face it, Prompto thought, his hands were perfect.) (He had looked at them enough to know as much.)

One morning, after he and Noctis had pulled an all-nighter working on a science paper they had ignored until it couldn't be ignored anymore, slightly delirious from the lack of sleep, Prompto was struck by genius. Of course. It was so obvious.

'It's because his hands are always cold!' he had whispered, his eyes opening wide, staring at the wall in front of him.

'Huh?' Noctis had grunted, face pressed against the kitchen table, not quite conscious anymore.

Ignis had chosen this very moment to arrive. And stare at them in disbelief. And sigh loudly as he proceeded to pick up all the empty Red Bull cans and bags of chips on the table, resisting the urge to lecture them about time management and healthy eating. That could wait until they were awake enough to actually feel guilty about it. Noctis got off the table, mumbling something about a shower, leaving the two of them alone.

The gloves came off when Ignis grabbed a rag and proceeded to wipe the sticky, crumbs-filled table.

And Prompto, in his awake-for-two-days-straight state of deliriousness, thought it the most natural thing in the world to simply grab Ignis' hand to verify his deeply thought-out cold hand theory.

He took Ignis' left hand in both of his, and stared at it with a focus Ignis didn't know Prompto had in him.

'...What are you doing?' he asked, more collected than he felt, after long, uncomfortable seconds Prompto didn't seem to notice.

'They're not cold...' was Prompto's answer, because, well, they weren't.

'I give up, Ignis!' he then cried out, letting go of the hand, throwing his in the air in defeat.

Ignis took a small step back, unsure how to handle the outburst.

'...What do you give up, Prompto?' he asked meticulously, making sure not to set him off even more.

So much for that.

'Your hands! The gloves!! They're not cold!! You wear them and then you don't and your hands aren't cold!! Why, Ignis, WHY?!' he ended up yelling, before stuffing his face into his crossed arms on the table.

Ignis stood still for a minute, trying to figure out how to defuse the situation. Prompto made no sense whatsoever, but he was clearly upset about something...

' 'm sorry,' Prompto mumbled, face pressed against the table, finally coming back to his senses. 'I'm so sleepy, Iggy, I'm sorry...' His voice was weak and just a little whiny and Ignis tried to stay neutral, but he was just so damn endearing, he couldn't keep a straight face.

'Get some sleep, Prompto. I'll get the couch ready.'

'But... The paper...'

'I'll drop it off myself. I'm sure I can come up with some sort of... royalty-related excuse,' he said with a kind smile. Besides, he could see Noctis from where he stood, sitting in his underwear, sound asleep on the toilet as the shower ran. He wasn't counting on getting him out of the house any time soon.

'Thanks Iggy you're the best,' Prompto mumbled as he dragged himself onto Noctis' oh so comfortable couch and proceeded to pass out for the next few hours.

He woke up with a blanket on his shoulders and a glass of water at his side. Ignis was still in the kitchen, preparing lunch, and Prompto conveniently realized he was starving.

'Morning!' he said as he took a long gulp from the glass.'

'It's six o'clock, Prompto.'

'Oh shit! Sorry about that.'

A pause.

'And sorry for saying 'shit' just now.'

'It's quite alright, Prompto,' Ignis laughed. 'Noct is still asleep, but would you like some soup? It's a good way to... keep your hands warm, wouldn't you agree?'

Oh.

Oh no.

'So that really happened, huh?'

'It most certainly did. Care to explain what that was about?'

Prompto stopped to think, for a minute, of what he could possibly tell him that wouldn't make him look like such a perfect idiot?

Absolutely nothing, he concluded as he settled on telling him the truth.

'First of all, I'm really, really sorry about that. I was sleep-deprived and got a little… emotional?'

'Oh I noticed,' he deadpanned.

He then proceeded to tell him everything, blushing and avoiding Ignis' gaze as Ignis tried very hard to keep a straight face.

He looked at him, solemn, when Prompto finished his story, shuffling around in his seat, awaiting Ignis' lecture about privacy and boundaries.

That’s not what he got.

'Prompto,' he said, and Prompto squealed. 'Can you keep a secret?'

He nodded vigorously.

Ignis slowly took off his gloves and slid his hands on the table so that Prompto could take a good look.

'Do you see anything odd?'

Prompto took a long, hard looks at the hands before him. He shook his head after long seconds.

'They're perfect!' he said with a little too much vigor.

'I know.'

'So what's up with that?'

'I... You cannot tell a soul what I'm about to tell you. It's embarrassing and I'm only letting you in on it because, well, I like you and I know I can trust you.'

Prompto nearly fell off his chair, mumbling an incomprehensible jumble of 'thank you', 'you too' and 'I wont tell' that severely put Ignis' straight-face keeping abilities to the test.

'The reason I started wearing gloves, Prompto, is that... I, um...'

'Yes?!'

'I... used to bite my nails. The gloves keep me from doing it, so I only take them off when it can't be helped.'

'...'

'...'

'Are you kidding me?!' Prompto yelped, leaning over the table to analyse Ignis' face from up close.

'N-no...'

'Oh my gods, Ignis! It's such a good reason, I never could've thought of that!'

The jubilant look on his face was enough to send butterflies down Ignis' stomach as he realized with fond horror that he may have a bit of a thing for the boy.

'Y-yes, well, now that this is settled, soup?'

'Heck yes.'

They sat and their soup as Prompto chatted away, both content with the outcome of this day, after all.

'Hey, Ignis?' Prompto asked as they were doing the dishes.

'Yes?'

'Did you make soup for dinner just so you could make that cold hands joke?'

He laughed.

'Of course not,' he lied.

**Author's Note:**

> *makes iunno noise*  
> Thanks for reading!  
> Come bully me on [tumblr](http://furimukuna-amuro.tumblr.com/) and [FFXV tumblr](https://thelegendarynoctgar.tumblr.com/)!


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